Read Online Red Jacket by Joseph Heywood - Free Book Online Page B

welfare. What about this elemental situation can you not grasp and understand?”
    â€œI’m boarding here. Alone .”
    â€œThe bed is solid,” Zakov said. “There’s room on the floor for you.”
    Bapcat took a step toward the Russian with the intent of administering severe bodily harm, but instantaneously decided against violence. “Why aren’t you staying with the Widow Frei?”
    â€œHer commercial interests extend far beyond Copper Harbor. She had no space or time for me.”
    â€œLet me guess: When the doctor moved you to a hospital, she told you to not come back.”
    â€œIt was not nearly as bluntly stated as that, but certainly that’s the unquestioned gist.”
    â€œWhere’s your place in this so-called taiga, and what’s that mean?”
    â€œEast of Bootjack, and it translates in your vernacular as the backwoods. I was up McCallum Creek, toward Rice Lake.”
    â€œA lot of farm country over that way.” The area was south of Red Jacket.
    â€œOf course, which makes it a predictable deer magnet, which in turn, serves as a wolf magnet, my raison d’être .”
    â€œI’ll get some help to move you back.”
    â€œThat won’t be possible.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œI appropriated a space for myself. It was run-down with no signs of habitation. Some men appeared one morning and let me know that uninhabited does not mean un-owned. They chastised and forcefully banished me.”
    â€œYou mean they beat the tar out of you?”
    â€œNo, I had a brace of pistols and the drop. It was a peaceable, albeit hasty departure, but I cannot go back there.”
    â€œThey got your ammo, right?”
    â€œYes, all but that in the revolvers and in my rifle at the time.”
    â€œYou could try to legally rent or purchase the building.”
    â€œNo money, my young companion. I am a penniless state of one.”
    â€œI should drag you into the woods and shoot you like a broke horse,” Bapcat said. “Put you out of your misery.”
    â€œI would be almost gratified for such a release from life’s sour circumstances, but you seem neither the merciful, nor the killing, type.”
    â€œYou’re half right,” Bapcat said, and went downstairs.
    â€œThe Russian up there is hurt and crazy. Do you have another room to let?” he asked the DiSilvestro woman.
    â€œDangerous crazy?” she asked.
    â€œJust off kilter some due to life’s hard circumstances.”
    The woman shrugged. “That defines all of us, Mr. Bapcat.” DiSilvestro gave him a long, appraising look. “Talk to Dominick. He’s the family’s agent of commerce.”
    Bapcat nodded. “Okay if the Russian stays until we find another place?”
    â€œOf course. Will you and your wife dine with the other guests tonight?”
    â€œHe’s not my wife,” the trapper said, using a tone he hoped would make it clear the joke was over.

15
    Ahmeek Village, Keweenaw County
    SUNDAY, JUNE 8, 1913
    Dominick Vairo came with him. “It started as a basic miner’s house, but my brother-in-law Giuseppe gave it a few additions, which he just finished. The miners ’round here got no money for such things. The water closet is the latest, eh?”
    The house, unlike neighboring places, had a fresh coat of dark brown paint, a fence painted pale yellow, no grass, a small storm entry that opened into an area with the kitchen-pantry, a living room, and bathroom on the main floor. The overall dimensions of the building were eighteen by twenty-six feet. The second floor had three small bedrooms. There were kerosene lanterns, no electricity. The place looked new inside. The full basement had a concrete floor and tight stone walls.
    â€œHow much?” Bapcat asked.
    â€œSix hundred an’ fifty dollar. The commode, she got runna water, yes?”
    â€œI’m buying for the State,” Bapcat